Regarding Ruth
by ShannonSto
Summary: A special victim brings Sara and Grissom together. Completed.
1. The Standoff

**A/N**: No spoilers (at least I don't think there are).  This is G/S oriented, so don't expect to see much of anyone else. If you're a Catherine fan, I'm sorry to hear that.  You probably won't like this.

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing, and I mean nothing. Sue me if you want, but there's really no point.

Regarding Ruth 

Chapter one,  The Standoff 

Sara sifted through the photographs of her crime scene, pausing on the snapshots of the victim. The criminalist quickly catalogued her observations. _Mid-sixties_, she noted. _No wedding ring. Average weight, height. Multiple blows to the head and neck. No obvious signs of sexual assault. Well-dressed. Probably takes good care of herself.  What happened here?_

The woman had been found in a field near the airport.  Her purse and suitcase were recovered nearby, but the wallet was missing. The small suitcase was devoid of any tags or stickers.  _She must have carried it on. Maybe she was only planning to be here a few days_, Sara theorized. If the victim had any jewelry, it, too, had been taken.  Robbery appeared to be the motive.  Jane Doe was in critical condition at University Medical Center. She had suffered a concussion, but the more serious injury had been the trauma to the back of her neck.  The resultant edema had left her paralyzed from the neck down. She was unable to breathe on her own or communicate in any way. There remained hope that as the swelling receded, she would regain her muscle control. Sara silently prayed for her.  Doubtful that the perpetrator would ever be caught, Sara focused on identifying the victim.  

She pored over missing person reports and found none that fit Jane Doe. She went over the suitcase again, hoping to find something she had missed. No dice. Catherine had examined the woman's clothing to no avail before leaving to work another case. The ringing of Sara's cellular telephone interrupted her train of thought.

"Sidle"

"Hey, Sara, how's your case coming?"  Catherine asked in a tone that indicated she didn't really want to hear the answer.

Sara dreaded the days when Catherine was in charge. This week it was because Grissom had a consultation in Salt Lake City.

"Still no luck with the ID."

"OK, well, try to wrap it up. They're cracking down on overtime again."

"Doing my best, Catherine. Bye."

Shift ended without any progress. Yawning, Sara decided to go home, sleep, and come back to look at it with more alert eyes.

***************************************

Sara arrived at work a few minutes early, hoping to get some fresh coffee before Catherine came in to make the assignments. She knew she didn't really need to come early; after all, she already had her case.  It was just a matter of habit. She sat in a chair at the table, and was sitting there still when Catherine entered five minutes later. 

"Where's everyone else?" Sara asked

"At the scene already.  Haven't you heard?"

Sara's confusion was evident  "Heard what?"

"Oh, Honey, you need to watch TV more often. Melinda Jones? The singer?  Ring any bells?"

"Yeah, what about her?"

"She was found dead in her room at Bellagio this afternoon. It looks like a fairly cut- and- dried OD, but the press is having a field day.  Everyone's on it."

"Not everyone." Sara stated simply.

"Yes, _everyone_."  Catherine emphasized.

"If it's so cut-and-dried, you don't need four crims, Catherine. You don't need me. Jane Doe does."

"I wasn't really asking, Sara."

Sara stared at her silently. Catherine was growing irritated.

"I'm in charge as long as Gil's out of town, Sara. Get your ass to the truck. We've got a job to do."

"Gil's back," Grissom countered from the doorway. "Is there a problem here?"  He wasn't sure he really wanted to get involved in this, but as the supervisor he knew he had no choice.  Sara still didn't move or speak.

"Hey, welcome back. You're a day early." Catherine's voice dripped with sweetness.

"I finished early. You didn't answer my question."

"We have a high profile case at Bellagio. Dead rock star."

"And?"

"And we need all hands on deck. This could be good publicity for the lab."

Sara finally weighed in,  "Is that what it's all about?" She appealed to Grissom, "Publicity? It's not a case that requires four or five CSIs."

"Whatever you might think of Melinda Jones, she was a human being, Sara," Catherine snapped.

"Yes, she was," Sara replied. "And so is Jane Doe. They both deserve our attention. I'm not telling you to ignore Melinda Jones. You, Nick and Warrick will do a fine job, I'm sure. I'm not abandoning my vic simply because another one is more famous."

Grissom attempted to sort out the facts, "What's going on with your case, Sara?"  

Sara quickly brought him up to date on the quest to identify Jane Doe.  Grissom thought it over a bit, and searched for the right words to use. He knew she wasn't going to like this.  "You've done everything you can to identify her. There's nothing more to research. Like it or not, the publicity is important. It indirectly affects any number of things, our budget not the least among them."

"No, I haven't done everything yet. I'm not dropping this until I've exhausted every possible lead." Sara was incensed, " That poor woman is lying in a hospital bed all alone, unable to move, talk or even breathe! Who's supposed to speak for her?"

Grissom found himself very uncomfortable with the escalation of the disagreement. He felt caught between a rock and a hard place.

"Catherine, could you leave us alone, please." He directed more than requested.

Catherine smirked at Sara, stomped out of the break room and slammed the door shut behind her.

"Sara," Grissom soothed. "Some things are beyond our control."

"But not this one.  I'm working this case, even if you fire me and I have to work it from home. When I've done all I can for her, then I'll put it away," she shook her head, calmer now but resolute. "Not before."

_How did I lose control of this?_ Grissom wondered. He was suddenly very aware of the only sound in the room. _Who knew a ticking clock could be so loud?_  

"You're putting me in a tough spot here."

"I'm sorry. But, you know, life is full of difficult choices. I'm not too happy with the position I've been put in either."

"Life is full of difficult choices?"

Sara shrugged. "It sounded Grissomian. Am I fired? Suspended?"

"No," he whispered. He turned and left the room, leaving Sara with a victory that felt very hollow.

TBC


	2. The Identification

Chapter two,  Identification 

Hours later, Sara visited Jane Doe in her hospital room. The woman remained ventilator-dependent. She had not yet regained the feeling in her body. Her eyes were wide open, and she watched Sara with an expression that made Sara think that she was completely coherent.  _It must be so difficult to be unable to communicate_, Sara thought sadly.

"You know what's strange?" the nurse asked, reaching across to silence an alarm on an infusion pump. "Sometimes she seems like she can hear me and understands. Other times you could drive a tank through the room and she wouldn't notice, even though she appears to be awake."

Sara looked Jane Doe in the face and took her hand.

"Don't give up, Jane. You're gonna beat this. I'm doing everything I can to help you, to find your family. I won't give up either."

Again, the victim's face registered what seemed to Sara to be comprehension.  Sara decided to return to the lab and look at the clothing that Jane had been wearing when she was found.

******************************

At the lab, Grissom found himself cornered by a very angry blond CSI. " I don't believe you! You totally undermined my authority! You didn't even suspend her?!"

_Don't question me like this, Catherine_, Grissom mentally warned. _You don't want me to say what's on my mind._ Catherine continued. "If you want to be the supervisor, you have to grow a spine!"

"Why would I suspend Sara when I've never suspended you?" 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Catherine hissed. "She defied a direct order."

"You mean like when she took the Holly Gribbs case after I specifically told her I didn't want her on it and she told me to fire her if I didn't like it? Or when she took her ex-husband's rape case, also against direct orders? Maybe when she blabbed irrelevant information to the husband of a victim after I told her not to and he killed an innocent man?" Gil was just getting started. "Do I have to continue? Is any of this sounding familiar?"

Catherine was speechless.

"Why should the rules apply to everyone else but not to you? If you didn't get fired for the lab explosion, which cost taxpayers thousand of dollars and destroyed evidence in thirteen cases, or when you tampered with evidence and got your father out of a murder rap, it stands to reason that no one is getting fired.  I'm tired of covering for you, Catherine.  People living in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

Catherine finally pulled herself together and tried a new angle.

"Sara isn't perfect either. She only made this little power play to undermine me. And you. Think with the head on your shoulders."

"She did it out of a sense of loyalty to the victim, Catherine. Sara actually cares about people other than herself."  
  


"I don't buy it. Everyone has an ulterior motive."

"Ralph Waldo Emerson once said 'I suppose you could never prove to the mind of a mollusk that a creature such as a whale was possible.'"

Conversation over, Grissom withdrew to find Sara.

***********************************

Down the hall in the layout room, Sara concentrated on the clothing with the tenacity of a bulldog. She would not, could not, concede defeat.  She so engrossed in her study that she failed to notice Grissom approaching from behind.

"Didn't Catherine already process those?" 

"Uh, yeah," Sara jumped, dreading this conversation. "But it never hurts to look at it again."

Gil spoke softly and respectfully, but there was no mistaking his intention.

"Don't you think you're grasping at straws, Sara?"

She shrugged and turned back to the clothing. _Don't tell me to find a diversion_.

Grissom interpreted her body language correctly. He nodded, turned and left the layout room.

The blouse that Jane had been wearing was somewhat ornate. _It didn't come from Wal-Mart, that's for sure_, Sara mused.  It appeared hand-stitched.  She found the tag and a grin crept over her features. The blouse was a one-of-a-kind from a boutique in Marina del Rey, California. And it looked brand new.

Sara would be working a double today. The boutique wouldn't be open for several more hours. She wondered if Grissom would mind if she went home and took a nap.  _Oh, yeah, Sidle, ask him that when you're already on his shit list. Hmph._  She opted instead to sit down in the break room for a few minutes and make some coffee to help her stay awake.

*******************************

Halfway out the door on his way to his car, Grissom was stopped by Eckley, the day shift supervisor.

"Hey, Gil, you gonna just go home and leave your CSI asleep in the break room? Is that what you guys do all night?"

Grissom didn't need to ask Eckley for further information; he had a feeling he knew exactly who it was asleep in the break room.  "Yes, Conrad, cleaning up after day shift can be exhausting."

His heart melted when he saw Sara slumped over the table, head on her forearms. _Why can't she just listen for once? Why does she do this to herself?_ If he were being completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that her empathy and determination were part of what he found attractive about her. He worried that someday she would burn herself out.  It could become too much for her and leave her unable to continue doing this work. Couldn't she see that there was a reason he had learned to repress his feelings? Some cases still got to him, yes, but he knew if he bled for each and every one he would soon run dry.  _This case is impossible. She must know that. You can't save them all, Sara._

"Sara?" he gripped her shoulder gently. "Sara, wake up."

Sara lifted her head slowly, re-orienting herself to her environment. _Oh great. Grissom. I'm about to get another lecture. _"What…oh, sorry."

_She probably thinks I'm still angry about her refusal to switch cases. I am. But my concern for her well-being outweighs it_. Grissom sat next to her. "You should go home."

"No, um… I didn't mean to fall asleep, but it's good that I did. I have to make some phone calls now."

She found the telephone number of the boutique easily enough and waited anxiously while the line rang in Marina del Rey.  According to the manager, they had sold several similar blouses in recent days.  Once the legal issues were cleared this morning, she would have a list of buyers this afternoon. She went home after stopping by the hospital to visit Jane Doe again. Despite the endotracheal tube taped to her lip, Jane had smiled when Sara entered the room. Sara would not, could not give up on her.

*******************************

Sara arrived at the lab early that afternoon, enthusiastic at the prospect of narrowing down the customer list and identifying Jane. As expected, Melinda Jones had OD'd.  Not much of a case after all. Sara was glad she had stood her ground, even though it had torn at her heart to fight with Grissom like that.

It didn't take long to eliminate most of the eight names on the list.  Lisa Martin. Too young.  Margaret Atchurch. Too old. Jennifer Ayala. Wrong size. Ruth Petersen. Just right? Ruth Petersen was 65. A little more research revealed that Petersen ran an art gallery in Venice Beach. _Hmmm…a promising lead.  What's the number for the art gallery?  Ah here it is._

"Petersen Collection. How may I help you?"

Sara briefly introduced herself to the young woman who answered and asked to speak with Ms. Petersen.

"Ruth is out of town. She goes to see her son in Las Vegas a couple of times a year."

"So her son would know if she were missing?" 

"I guess so. But she doesn't always tell him when she's going. She's kind of a spur-of-the-moment  person sometimes. Very independent. Is she OK?"

"She will be. Do you have access to her son's number?"

"It's here somewhere—wait a minute! I think he's a cop or something in Vegas. Maybe you know him? His name's, oh, here it is…Gilbert Grissom. Do you need the number?"

The thud heard by the receptionist was Sara dropping the telephone.

TBC


	3. The Recovery

**Chapter three, The Recovery**

Gil was just stepping out of the shower when the telephone rang. _Damn it_. _I'll be there in thirty minutes. Can't they give me any peace?_

"Hello?"

"Hi, um, it's me," Sara had no idea how to approach this. 

"Is everything all right?" Grissom's brow furrowed. _She sounds upset_.

"Could you, uh…meet me at the hospital? University Med, 6th floor waiting room?"

"I'm supposed to be at work in thirty minutes Sara."

"It's important," Gil thought he heard her voice catch.

"Okay, give me twenty minutes or so."

Sara reached the hospital in about ten minutes, checking in on Jane—er, Ruth—before finding a seat in the waiting room. She had not given the older woman any reason to suspect that she had identified her. There was still a small chance that she could be wrong.  Her stomach was rolling when Grissom appeared around the corner.  

"What's up?"

"I, um, I, I think I might have ID'd my Jane Doe."

"And?"

"I think she's your mom," Sara choked out in a whisper.

Gil's expression was impossible to interpret at that moment. He spoke more harshly than he intended.

"Where?"  
  


Sara pointed, "Room 616, Pod D"

He said nothing; he stormed down the hall, throwing the door open and stopped just inside Jane Doe's door. The sight of the woman in the bed overwhelmed him. She had multiple intravenous lines, a catheter and monitor wires. She also had the ventilator and associated tubing.  But there, in the mess of tangled wires and tubes, he saw his mother.  He sat in the bedside chair that Sara had vacated only minutes before and reached out to touch Ruth's face.  She stirred, and her eyes grew large as she saw her son sitting beside her. 

Sara quietly closed the door and allowed them their privacy.  She made her way to the nurses' station and proceeded to inform the staff that their Jane Doe was no longer a Jane Doe. 

A short time later Grissom emerged, aware that the medical team would need any pertinent medical information. Likewise, he wanted them to tell him her condition. 

"Do you want me to go back to the lab?" Sara asked, "Give you privacy? Maybe you don't want me to know this stuff. Beyond what I already know because of the case."

"No, no, it's okay," Gil smiled at her, though still visibly shaken.

The doctor carefully explained the situation with the concussion, the swelling around the spinal cord, and their concern over her apparent lack of responsiveness at times. 

"Unresponsive?" Grissom sought clarification.

"Sometimes," the intern explained, "when we go into room she doesn't seem to notice. Until we touch her."

"She's deaf," Grissom informed him matter-of-factly

"Deaf? For how long?"

"Forty years," Gil stole a glance at Sara. "She has otosclerosis. She reads lips very well. Look at her when you speak to her and you won't have a problem. Flip the light switch when you enter the room so she'll know you're there."

Sara listened attentively, as the events of the last two years became clearer.

When Grissom finished his discussion with the doctors, he returned to his mother's room. Sara decided she should go to the lab. Hopefully she could wrap up the case, at least until Mrs. Petersen was able to communicate and could give them some hint about her assailant.

On her arrival, she updated Catherine on Grissom's absence and offered to take a new case now that this one was all but closed.  Catherine said little and did not re-assign her. Sara retreated to the break room to catch up on paperwork.  How she hated paperwork!  Crossing Ts and dotting Is just wasn't her thing. She would much rather be out in the field. 

*****************************

The next few days passed in a blur. Scuttlebutt around the lab was that Grissom's mother was doing well; the swelling had subsided and she was beginning to regain her strength.  Sara had purposely avoided visiting out of concern she would feel she was intruding. Wednesday afternoon, she was startled from her sleep by the ring of the telephone. "Hello?"

"Sara, hi, it's me," Grissom began.

"Hi."

"I'm sorry if I woke you…"

"No, it's okay."

"If you don't mind, could you stop by the hospital on your way to work tonight? My mom really wants to see you."

"Um…all right."

"Thanks. I'll see you later."

"Okay, bye."

Entering the hospital room, Sara was unprepared for the sight before her. The head of Ruth's bed had been raised considerably, allowing a fairly comfortable upright position.  The ventilator continued to hum at the bedside, but Ruth exhibited deliberate, although weak, movements of her hands and arms.  She didn't at all resemble the woman Sara had seen just a few days ago.  On Sara's arrival, Grissom tapped his mother on the shoulder and pointed toward the door. Ruth turned, saw Sara, and motioned for the brunette to approach.

"Hello," Ruth signed.

"Hello," Sara returned the gesture. Embarrassed, she added verbally, "That's about all I know."

Grissom stepped forward to make the formal introduction.  "Mom, I'd like you to meet Sara Sidle," he both spoke and signed. "Sara, this is my mom, Ruth Petersen."

Ruth grabbed a notepad from the bedside table and began writing diligently. Her handwriting was poor due to her persistent muscle weakness, but Sara was able to read it nonetheless. "I wanted to thank you," the note read.

"You don't have to thank me."

"Yes, I do," Ruth scribbled. "I felt very alone. When you came to visit, I knew that someone cared.  You made me feel like a person, not a statistic."

"I…I was just doing my job," Sara protested modestly.

"You had to fight for the right to do your job, Sara.  I'm grateful to you, too," Grissom joined.  "You reminded that it's wrong to give one vic priority over another… I lost sight of that somewhere along the line."

"You're welcome," Sara surrendered. "Both of you.  I'd really better be off to work now.  I'll see you later." With a nervous smile, she was gone from the room.

Ruth continued to recover at a rapid pace.  She was soon discharged form the hospital and staying with Gil.  One night in the break room, before giving assignments, Grissom made an announcement, "My mother is going home to California next week and is insistent on meeting all of you before she goes.  In fact, she's insisting I invite everyone to a cookout at my house Saturday.  Late afternoon so that you can sleep before and work after."  After securing unanimous acceptance of his "invitation", he proceeded to assign the night's caseload.

TBC


	4. The Cookout

**A/N:** I realize that it's December and a bit chilly in Las Vegas, so a cookout might not have been the best idea, but let's just pretend it's warm, OK?

**Chapter four, The Cookout**

Sara stared at door nervously. Maybe she really shouldn't be here. He had only invited her because his mother had insisted. And he couldn't invite everyone else without inviting her. He was just being polite.  She had the feeling her presence would make him uncomfortable. As it was, he was very private. He surely wouldn't appreciate the intrusion of so many people into his home. He certainly wouldn't appreciate her intrusion after he had made it perfectly clear over the last year that he wanted to keep her at a distance.  She checked herself over one last time. Her black slacks and button-up blue blouse seemed fine. Her curls had been tamed somewhat, but she had left it wavy. She swallowed the lump in her throat and knocked on the door.

A familiar voice from inside the townhouse rang out. "Come on in. It's not locked."

Entering the house, she scanned the surroundings. In one corner, a large screen television displayed a football game in progress. Many of the walls were as she remembered; adorned with various species of butterflies under glass.  Normally, she had a strict policy against men who decorated with dead animals, but somehow this was different. The captivatingly beautiful butterflies were much more acceptable than a deer head or a fish carcass on the wall. A sound from the kitchen drew her attention. 

"Sara. I'm glad you could make it."  Grissom smiled fondly, and then turned his attention back to the task at hand. He was busy preparing the hamburgers for the barbeque. 

Sara walked into the kitchen as casually as she could. She noted his fitted blue jeans and dark red shirt. "Hi. Where is everyone?"

"Well, my mom is out back and as for the guests, you are the first to arrive." The entomologist glanced at her anxiously, looking for a way to break the ice. He hated that their once easy friendship was now so strained. "Want something to drink?"

"Sure. What do you have?"

"You name it," he gestured toward the refrigerator. "Help yourself."  Gil retrieved a glass for her from the cabinet above his head.

"Thanks." She quickly chose the pitcher of iced tea and poured herself a glass.  

Leaning back against the kitchen counter, Sara watched her boss work on dinner. _Hamburger, ugh!_ As if reading her mind, he reached beside her, opened the refrigerator and removed a plastic grocery store bag. Her eyes widened in pleasant surprise when he pulled a package of veggie burgers from the bag and winked. "Did you really think I'd forget again?"

"I almost stopped on the way over and picked some up," she admitted sheepishly. Her blush gave way to her trademarked gap-toothed grin.  Catching her eyes with his own, Gil couldn't stop the warm smile from spreading across his face.

Neither of them heard the approach of his mother from the townhouse's small back yard.  The older woman paused in doorway at the sight before her.  Her heart warmed as she felt the genuine affection passing between the two. She smiled to herself. It was intriguing to finally see the interaction between Gil and the woman he had spoken of so many times. He had never openly admitted to romantic feelings for his employee, but she knew from the expression on her son's face when the subject would come up that his feelings for Sara went far beyond mere professional respect. The interaction she observed now only served to prove that point in her mind.

"Hi, Sara," she announced her presence.

"Hi." Sara smiled courteously and put her best foot forward, "It's a pleasure to finally be able to talk with you."

"It certainly is. I've heard so much about you."

_I wish I could say the same thing_, Sara thought.  She poured herself another glass of tea.__

"Hmm…I guess I was supposed to do that." Gil both spoke and signed, referring to the beverage.

"Yes, what were you raised by wolves?" Ruth also employed both methods of communication with her affectionate teasing.  "What's with the tea? We need margaritas. Where's your blender, Gil?" 

Sara laughed aloud. She was delighted by the older woman's sense of humor and recognized that by speaking as well as signing they were careful not to exclude her from the conversation. 

Grissom rummaged through the cabinets and located the blender and all of the necessary ingredients for the perfect pitcher of margaritas.  Ruth quickly mixed the drinks.  "These glasses aren't chilled. How is the salt supposed to stick?"

"Oh, non-chilled glasses. How could I commit such a major social faux pas?" Gil deadpanned.

Sara tried her best to appear unamused, suppressing a grin. "It's a serious party foul, Grissom."

Grissom turned to Sara, pointing at her with a mock glare "_You_ should choose your words carefully. The next three decomps could be yours." The brunette's broad smile was his cue to continue. "Out of the kindness of my heart, I'll give you a margarita anyway."

"Oh, no thanks," Sara politely declined. "I'm driving."

Grissom placed the glass in front of her and smirked playfully. "Not for hours yet Sara. Besides, you're off tonight. You can stay as long as you need to." 

"It does look good." She shrugged and grinned, sipping her drink.

Another knock at the door announced the arrival of Warrick and Nick. Catherine and Lindsey followed shortly thereafter. 

The barbeque ready, Grissom went to the yard to cook the burgers. The others joined him. Sara participated in the small talk, surprised that she felt more comfortable and at ease than she had in a very long while.  Sara was enchanted with Ruth. Grissom's mother was much like him: witty and intelligent, only more outgoing.  It wasn't difficult to imagine how she could run a business on her own.  She was very independent.  Sara had the distinct impression that the woman liked her as well, but she was afraid to read too much into it. The other CSIs had consistently called her "Mrs. Petersen" and Ruth did not correct them, yet when Sara had done so, Ruth had immediately bid her "Oh, Honey, call me Ruth."  How do you misread that?  _What did Grissom tell her about me_? 

For his part, Grissom seemed to be pretty relaxed as well. His mother's recovery had removed a heavy burden from him. He knew he owed a huge debt of gratitude to Sara, but as always, he encountered great difficulty whenever he attempted to express raw emotion.  No one flummoxed him like Sara could. No one affected him like she could.

"Hey, Sara," Nick began. "I know I told you this before, but I've got this friend that you would absolutely love…"  
  


"You've had too much booze, Nicky. Or I need more. Or both." Sara snorted.

"Really, you should give him a chance.  He's six foot one, a lawyer…"

Grissom almost wished he hadn't had his hearing salvaged when he heard Nick trying to convince Sara to date some guy.  _Don't do it, Nick…I promise you they'll never find your body…_

"…And he drives a Hummer…" Nick jabbered on.

"I definitely need more booze." Sara stared into her empty glass and retreated to the kitchen for a refill.  The pitcher was dry. 

"I can make more if you like." She had not seen Ruth sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee.

"No, no, I'm fine. It's time to switch back to tea anyway."  She poured herself a glass of iced tea.

"He loves you, you know."  Ruth said matter-of-factly.

_Ah, there it is_. _She's going to cut right to the chase. No ambiguous aphorism. No literary reference. Wow, she's not as much like her son as I thought_.  Sara sighed deeply, trying to mentally prepare herself, and sat across the table from Ruth.  She wasn't sure whether or not she was glad that Ruth wouldn't hear the sadness in her voice. "I'm not so sure about that."

"He does. It's in his eyes every time he talks about you. And now I know it's there when he looks at you, too."

Sara looked downward, covering her face with her hands for a moment. "Maybe he does, but…"

"You have to look at me, Honey."

"I'm sorry," Sara rolled her eyes and blushed, her embarrassment evident. It was easy to forget that Ruth was deaf. "Maybe he does, but he doesn't want to do anything about it. I can't tell.  He's confusing."

"He's a brilliant man, Sara, but he's not good with…expressing his emotion. Maybe you've noticed?" Ruth smiled. "Be patient with him. I think he's working on it."

Sara stiffened, but managed to keep her composure. "I, um, I know that you're trying to help, and I'm flattered. But, this...this is really painful for me.  He knows how I feel, and he's made it pretty clear that, um, it's not gonna happen."

Ruth put her hand over Sara's in understanding. "Like I said…he's bad at this. But he does care."

"Jerry Rice is a has-been?! Did you actually just say that, man?" Warrick asked Nick incredulously, as everyone filed in from the yard. Warrick shook his head in disbelief.

"Puh-leeze! Just look at the Oakland's record…"

"The Raiders suck, Nick! That's not Jerry's fault. He can't carry the whole team."

"You guys heading out?" Sara asked. 

Catherine grabbed her purse. "Yeah, some us actually have to work tonight."

They said their goodnights and departed, leaving Sara once again alone with Grissom and his mother. 

TBC


	5. The Bluff

A/N:  I want to thank everyone who's read and reviewed this story. I apologize for the delay. I was on vacation out of town.  Again, this is not beta'd, so please forgive typos.  Thanks to the PwF chat room regulars for their help with this chapter. You guys rock! 

Chapter five, the Bluff 

"Straight flush to the nine," Sara declared triumphantly, laying her hole cards on the table.

"You got it," Grissom tossed his cards in face down.

"Wow, a buck eighty," Sara scooped the loose change toward herself. "Your deal, Ruth."

Ruth gathered and shuffled the deck of cards, "Five card draw, fives are wild." She dealt the cards with the deftness of a professional. "Care to open?"

"Hmmm…" Sara examined her hand carefully. "I'll open for a dime." She tossed the coin to the center of the table.

"I'll see your dime and raise twenty cents more," Gil challenged confidently.

Ruth quickly read her son's face and added her thirty cents to the pot.  Sara studied Grissom at length.  "I don't think so," she said finally, and folded her hand.

"He's bluffing," Ruth informed her. "How many cards, Gil?"

Grissom indicated he wanted three and the dealer obliged. She took two cards herself.  "What's your bet, sucker?"

"Fifty cents."

"And I'll raise fifty."

"Damn it," Grissom laughed, conceding defeat. "As usual, you were right. I got nothing."

"That's too bad," Ruth collected her winnings. "Because I had nothing either."

"I need a snack," Gil went into the kitchen and rummaged in the freezer. "You want a Popsicle, Sara?"

"Sure."

"Uh oh, there's only one left. We can split it."  He returned to the table and broke the Popsicle in half, handing one part to Sara.

"Thanks. I guess that makes it my deal."

Ruth gathered the cards, "I'll deal for you so you can eat.  How about seven card stud, nothing wild?"

"Sounds good. Thanks for dealing," Sara replied.

Ruth dealt each player two hole cards and one exposed card.  Sara had the seven of clubs, Gil the jack of diamonds and Ruth the ace of diamonds. "Big ace bets," Sara stated. 

"We'll start small with just a nickel," Ruth tossed her nickel in, and the others followed suit.  She then continued the deal, giving Sara the nine of hearts, Gil the jack of hearts and herself the king of diamonds.

Gil studied each of their faces and bet a dime. Both women called his bet. The fifth card was then dealt giving Sara the seven of  hearts, Gil the queen of spades and Ruth the nine of  clubs. Grissom bet twenty cents. Ruth looked at the cards and folded, "Pair of jacks, pair of sevens, and my flush blown all to hell by a stupid club." She excused herself to go to the restroom. Sara called, and smiled at her boss.

After the sixth card, Gil still had a pair of jacks showing, while Sara still had a pair of sevens. He wagered fifty cents. Sara unflinchingly called his bet and raised it twenty-five cents. Grissom stared at her intently, attempting to get a read. _She knows I have her beaten showing, but she's not backing down. What does she have?_  Sara sucked strongly on her end of her Popsicle, moving it sensually in her mouth. _What is she doing? Could she do that for—stop it Gil!_  "You don't play fair," he told her with an arched eyebrow. He called her raise.

"What do you mean?" she asked innocently. _Why is he looking at me like that? I'm just eating my Popsicle. Wait, he doesn't think I'm using the Popsicle to…no_. The last card Gil dealt down. He checked the bet to Sara. "Fifty," she said.

Gil glanced down at his hand.  In addition to his pair of jacks, he had a pair of queens. _She must have three—what is she doing with that Popsicle?_ "Fold."

Sara collected the money and for her own amusement she flipped her cards over. She had nothing but two sevens. Her laughter was contagious.

"Damn," Gil laughed. "I bought it, hook, line and sinker."

As Ruth returned to the table, Sara decided to take the money and run. "I really should be going. Thanks for everything. I've had a wonderful day." 

"It was great to meet you, Sara. I hope next time we meet it's under better circumstances," Ruth pulled her into a hug.

"It was nice meeting you, too. I'm glad you're okay."

"Good night, Sara, thank you for coming," Grissom briefly put his hand on her back.

"Thank you for inviting me. I'll see you tomorrow at work."

Grissom walked her to the door and shut it after she departed.  He and Ruth finished cleaning up the townhouse in silence.  When they had completed the task, they sat at the table with coffee. It was obvious that his mother had something on her mind, and Gil knew he had no choice but to hear it.  They conversed in American Sign Language.

She's lovely, Gil

Yes. Inside and out.

So what's the scoop?

There is no scoop.

My ears don't work, Gil, but my eyes do. You can't tell me there's nothing going on there…the way you look at each other. There's chemistry.  Tell me you're not interested.

I never said I wasn't interested. There are so many obstacles…

So you'd have to fight for it.

Yes.

Is she worth fighting for?

My heart says "yes", but my head…my head gets in the way. I don't see how it could work.

I don't see how you can be so sure it wouldn't work.

I'm her boss.

So, you'd have to be discreet.

And I'm a lot older than she is

Are you joking?

You don't see anything wrong with that?

You're both adults! If she were 15, I'd have a problem with it. But she looks 30-35. No problem. Besides, if you marry a woman your own age, I'll never be a grandmother.  What's the real issue here?

Maybe I'm afraid. If I let her into my heart, it would kill me if she left. If she found someone younger, or stronger, or—

You're selling yourself short. Actually, you're selling her short. Does she seem that shallow to you? You're insulting her by thinking she's that superficial.

I don't think she's shallow.

Whether you want her there or not, she's already in your heart. Only you're not reaping any of the rewards.  Life is full of risk, Gil. We only succeed by trying, and it looks as if you've given up before you even got started.  Love is worth fighting for.  When it's right, it's amazing and wonderful.  Don't deprive yourself, or Sara, of that.  

I don't know what to think.

Then don't.  You think too much sometimes. You think when you should feel. And I think you're running out of time here.

You sound like Sara.

She's a smart woman.

Yes, she is.

TBC


	6. The Backlash

A/N: Again, many thanks to the PwF forum for advice and support.

Chapter Six, The Backlash 

"Warrick and Nick, DB in a warehouse downtown.  Catherine, you have an apparent suicide. They requested a CSI for suspicious circs," Grissom distributed the appropriate assignment slips.  "Sara, you're with me."

He filled her in on the details of the case as they walked through the parking garage.  "Someone whacked a tourist in the back of the head.  Probably robbery."

"Sounds familiar."

"You did so well with the last one, you get another."

"I didn't solve the last one," Sara reminded him.

"Maybe we'll solve this one," he said. "Very similar circumstances. Could be the same perp."

"Then should you really be involved?"

Grissom gave her a pointed look but said nothing as he hopped into the driver's seat of the SUV.

As they arrived at the crime scene, they noticed Jim Brass standing with two officers.  Between the officers was a handcuffed suspect.  Grissom and Sara practically leapt from the car.  "What's this?" Gil asked, pointing to the suspect.

"This one should be easy for you guys," Brass replied. "Alan Jaworsky, caught in the act.  The victim, one Sandy Miller, was DOA at Desert Palm."  He glanced quickly from Grissom to Sara, then back again.  "You guys do your thing here.  I'll take him back to the station.  We'll wait for you for the interview."

The CSIs processed the scene and returned to the lab.  The interview proved fruitless as Jaworsky refused to talk.  Within an hour, a warrant had been secured giving the CSIs permission to search his apartment.

Brass pulled Sara aside as Grissom entered the tenement.  "What the Hell is he doing here?  He's too close to this."

"Hey," Sara threw up her arms.  "I asked the same thing.  I got nowhere."

They fanned out across the apartment.  Sara chose the kitchen.  She opened every drawer and cabinet, but found nothing probative.  Unwashed dishes in the sink and a dirty floor weren't exactly evidence of a crime. Suddenly, Brass called out from the bedroom, "Well, looky here. Jackpot!" 

In the top drawer of his battered dresser, Alan Jaworsky had kept driver licenses and credit cards from three victims, including Ruth Petersen.   Sara and Brass watched Gil carefully, but he gave no outward indication of anything other than cool detachment.  He acknowledged their concerned countenances, "I'm fine.  Really.  Now let's go put this bastard away."

Mustering her courage, Sara tried diplomacy, "I'm not worried so much about you as I am that a judge might throw out any evidence you touch.  They could say there's a conflict of interest."

"I haven't touched anything," Gil retorted tersely. "And I won't.  I'll let you handle all of the physical evidence, but I'm not bowing out."

"Look," Brass interjected. "I wasn't gonna point this out, but this guy already got off the hook once because CSI screwed up.  He was busted for armed robbery last year. He walked when the evidence against him blew up in the lab."

"He won't walk again." Gil stormed out of the apartment, motioning for Sara to follow.  The drive back to the lab was silent and tense.  Sara attempted once to engage him in small talk, but he immediately shut her down.

True to his word, Grissom did not handle any evidence, nor speak with the suspect again.  He instead ensconced himself in his office under the guise of completing backed-up paperwork.  Nearing the end of the shift, Catherine approached the desk.  "A suicide after all.  Who'd have thunk it?"

Gil looked up from his papers, "Are you sure? Were you thorough?"

"Always thorough," Catherine smirked until she realized that his questions and his weary expression were serious.  She stared at him as his attention shifted back to his paperwork.

Feeling her glare, Gil looked back up at her, "Was there something else you needed?"

"What is your problem lately?" she hissed. "I'm the most experienced CSI you've got.  Don't you dare treat me like an underling."

"Well, last time I checked, I am the supervisor," he told her with ice in his eyes. "You really don't want to start anything with me right now.  Your track record isn't all that impressive."

"I do my job and I do it well—"

"Tell that to Sandy Miller.  Rumor has it you're worried about a backlash.  If you were doing your job so well why would you have to worry about a backlash?  You must think you've earned one."  He gestured toward the door with a dismissive wave.

Stunned, Catherine departed as directed.  She walked straight into Nick. "Whoa, sorry, Cath," the Texan drawled.

"Who's Sandy Miller?" she asked absently, and continued down the corridor.

Nick shook his head and went into the office.  "What's wrong with her?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," Grissom grumbled under his breath, too quietly for Nick to hear, then continued more audibly. " Do you need something, Nick?"

"Here's the report so far on our DB. DNA won't be back until tonight and trace is working on the green powder we found around the gun."

"All right.  You guys can head out."

Grissom decided to head out himself.  When he got home, he sent off a quick e-mail to his mother to let her know that her assailant had been apprehended.  It would be her first day back at work. He silently thanked whatever deities existed for her recovery. The familiar throbbing in his head presented itself, and he knew that a migraine could not be far behind.  He took his medication and went to bed.

His dreams were occupied by a tall brunette with an adorable gap-toothed grin that had the capacity to light up the room.  Somehow, some way, he had to figure out what to do about his feelings for her_.  "You know, by the time you figure it out, you really could be too late."_ Yes, those had been her words.  "_You really could be too late_."  What did she mean by that? _"Too late…"_

TBC


	7. The Redemption

Chapter Seven, The Redemption 

Grissom crouched down to take one last look at the body before David zipped up the body bag.  He gazed back up at Catherine and Sara, "Anyone want to call it?"

"Before all the evidence is in?" Sara asked dryly. "My boss sometimes lectures me for that."

"I'll take a shot," Catherine spoke with caution. "It looks like a crime of passion, so I'd bet the killer's a woman." She walked slowly over to the broken window. "She entered here and waited for the vic to get home from work.  He," she hypothesized, moving back toward the front door, "came in, started to remove his jacket, and she stabbed him in the neck.  Cut and run, egress through he front door."

Gil nodded, "I'm going with the body for the post.  Sara, see what you can come up with as far as girlfriends and exes.  Any female who may have had a beef with this guy. Cath, scene's all yours."

Grissom and Sara headed for the car with Catherine right behind them. "I'll get some extra bindles out of the truck and ride back with Jim when I'm done."

The blonde retrieved the necessary items and stood with Brass as they watched Gil and Sara. Grissom politely opened and closed her car door for her. She smiled slightly, and then quickly tensed again.  The taillights of the Denali faded from view.

"He's trying so hard," Brass chuckled, shaking his head.

"And she's not budging," Catherine agreed.

"And who could blame her? They've put each other through the ringer so many times over the years, I'm amazed they still speak."  
  


"It's pathetic, isn't it?  They just can't seem to get on the same page at the same time.  I guess that's what happens when two intellectual geniuses yet social imbeciles fall in love with each other."

"You used to, you know, nudge them together," Brass observed. "What ever happened with that?"  
  


"I gave up. Decided that even though they're perfect for each other, it's a lost cause," Catherine admitted. "I've been pretty wrapped up in myself, lately. I haven't been a very good friend, especially to Sara. You think I could redeem myself with a little match-making?"

"It's worth a shot."

"I doubt I have any influence left, but it wouldn't hurt to try," she resolved, and went back into the house to finish processing the scene.

Sara sat in front of a computer in the lab, poring over their victim's telephone records. She felt somewhat guilty for the way she had spoken to Grissom. Even though her words had been true, she had usually tried to take the high road.  He seemed to be making a genuine effort to reach out to her, and she hadn't been at all receptive.  Only a year ago, she would have been ecstatic for Grissom to speak to her in any capacity, much less request her opinion about a case.  As if she had acquired extra sensory perception, she knew that the subject of her thoughts was standing behind her in the doorway.  She turned to face him.

"Anything yet?" he asked.

"No, not yet," Sara gave him a half-smile.

"Why don't you take a break? You've been at this for hours," there was no mistaking the change in his tone. "Let's go get lunch."

Sara slowly shook her head, "No, thanks, I'm not hungry yet."  She turned back to her computer screen.  _Should I read something more into his invitation or not? No, I refuse to have to interpret anything.  If he wants something from me, he's going to have to tell me outright.  I won't risk misinterpreting again. It hurt too much last time_.

Gil was secretly glad she turned away from him.  That way, she would not see the disappointment on his face.  _You really could be too late_.  He retreated back to his office.

The next week passed uneventfully.  Grissom found himself assigning cases in a way that ensured he would see Sara very little. Tuesday night, Nick was off work.  Grissom paired Sara with Warrick and himself with Catherine.  He and Catherine stopped for a bite at the diner on their lunch break.  As they consumed their meals, Catherine broached the subject, "So what's going on with you and Sara?"

"What do you mean?" Gil asked anxiously in the middle of a mouthful of spaghetti.

"I mean, are you two ever gonna get together? Or do you need a good kick in the ass?"

"Wow, Catherine, that's…that's…" he stammered. "That's really none of your business."

"Look, Gil," Catherine said, deciding brutal honesty was the best approach. "I realize that I've made some mistakes lately, and maybe I haven't been the nicest person. But I am still your friend.  I don't want to see you throw away the best thing that ever happened to you."

"Then look away," Grissom muttered sardonically.

"I don't know what's happened between the two of you, but I'm guessing that if there's a next move, you're gonna have to be the one to make it."

"Yeah, I've tried that. Can we talk about something else?"

"You think you've tried that, but I'm guessing you tried it in typical Grissom style—totally ambiguous and open for interpretation.  What you should try is being direct. Tell her exactly what it is you want from her."

Grissom pushed his plate away.

"Okay," Catherine backed down. "I've said my piece. We can talk about something else now. But you think about what I said."

Catherine's opportunity to corner Sara presented itself a few hours later.  She hoped her words had an impact on Grissom; now she had to try to make certain Sara would be willing to listen once Gil was willing to talk.  She found Sara in the layout room, yet another grisly puzzle spread out before her.  "Maybe motor oil," Catherine suggested, pointing to a stain on the quilt.  

"Maybe," Sara replied absent-mindedly. "But how did it get there? It looks even fresher than the blood stains."

"Run it by Grissom."

"Hmmm…"

"He's trying, Sara," Catherine offered.  "He really is obtuse about these things."

"Are we still talking about motor oil?" Sara questioned, though she already knew the answer.

"I know he's pushed you away a time or two, but I think this time he's finally got it together. He was going through a lot last year.  If you give him the chance, he may just tell you about it."

"So, Catherine, how's the weather? How about those Patriots?" Sara clapped her hands together and smiled falsely. She couldn't help but wonder if Catherine's effort to help her was genuine. 

"Nope, not changing the subject just yet."

"I've given him plenty of chances."  
  


"Well give him one more.  You won't regret it."

TBC


	8. The Chase

Chapter Eight, The Chase 

Leaning back in his office chair, Grissom studied the evening's assignment slips.  Warrick was off that night, leaving Gil with himself, Catherine, Nick and Sara to assign.  The decision to give Catherine one DB was an easy one; there was a great deal of blood at the scene and blood spatter analysis was her strength.  He chose the other DB for himself, another easy decision as the body was riddled with bugs.  Now came the tough question, that of Nick and Sara.  _Okay, not so tough—I'll take Sara_.  Satisfied with his decision, he headed for the break room to inform his team.

"Catherine, you have a homicide at a residence in Summerlin," he handed her the slip. "Take Nick.  Lots of blood. Have fun."

Nick and Catherine high-fived each other and left the break room.

"What about me?" Sara asked at last.

"You and I have a body in the mountains. Bugs," Grissom was interrupted by the ringing of his cellular telephone. "Grissom," he barked into the receiver.  "We're on our way, O'Reilly…he's not going anywhere without a head...give us thirty minutes." He closed the flip phone.

"No head. Yay," Sara deadpanned.  She picked up the assignment slip and read it as she followed Grissom out to the SUV. "Hey, I'm driving!"

The shift progressed smoothly.  Sara and Grissom worked well together and even found themselves falling back into their old friendly banter.  At one point, he thought he had found the nerve he needed, but quickly lost it, "Sara?"

"Yes?"  
  
"Would you," he cleared his throat. "Would you, uh…hand me my kit?"

"Um, okay." Sara sensed he had changed gears in mid-sentence, but wouldn't allow herself to speculate regarding his original intent.  She handed him his field kit as requested.

Grissom mentally kicked himself for his retreat.  Everyone else seemed to know what to do—his mother, Catherine, even Sara herself had all tried to tell him at one point or another. Why was this so difficult? _Too late. You could really be too late_. He told himself that the problem must be their location. How do you ask someone out over a decapitated corpse? Even he was more romantic than that. He would ask her later, in a more appropriate venue.  

They finished the scene and took their evidence back to the lab for processing.  Gil glanced at his watch. Seven fifteen in the morning. Nick and Catherine were still running with their case and would probably be working for hours still.  He and Sara decided to go home and pick theirs back up that night. Most of their evidence was in DNA or Trace, so there was little they could do at the moment.  "You leaving?" a familiar voiced queried. Gil looked up to see Sara leaning on the doorframe of his office.

"Yeah," Gil recognized that this was his chance. "Just heading out."

"See you tonight," Sara responded and turned to leave.

"Sara, wait!"

"Hmm?"

"Would you, uh, would you like to have breakfast? I make a mean omelet. Or we could stop somewhere."

Sara froze. _As God is my witness, I don't know what I should do_.  "I, um, uh…why?"

"Why?" Grissom repeated, clearly confused by the question.

"Um, yeah, why?  I mean, is this just two coworkers catching a bite before going home? Or…fill in the blanks for me. Filling them in for myself hasn't worked well for me."

"We, uh, we have a lot of things we need to talk about.  How about if we just call it two friends having breakfast and figure out where to go from there?"

"We do need to talk," Sara agreed.  She thought for a moment and gave in.  "All right, I'd love an omelet."

"Follow me," Gil breathed a sigh of relief. His equanimity was short-lived however, when he realized that that had only been the first step.  He still had much to say to her, including a confession of a secret he should never have kept from her.  How would she react? Would she reject him when he bared his soul to her?

Grissom let Sara into the townhouse, then closed the door behind the two of them. "Make yourself at home," he said, hoping he sounded far more easy-going than he felt. "I'll make the omelets."

Sara pulled up a stool and sat at the kitchen counter while Gil prepared the meal.  "Are you sure I can't help with anything?"

"Nope. These are my specialty.  World famous."

"How's your mom?"

"She's doing well," Grissom smiled warmly. "Thank you for asking.  She was very happy that Jaworsky got caught. Even happier that she doesn't have to come ID him or testify."

"She's something else," Sara laughed. "I adore her."

"She's pretty fond of you, too."

"Tell her she can send me that Dali any time. My wall is still naked."

"I'll be sure to pass that along," Gil answered with a laugh.

"How do you know what I like in my omelet?"

"I am the master chef, Sara," he waggled his eyebrows at her. "And I know what you like…I hope."

Gil was a man of his words. It was indeed the best omelet Sara had ever tasted.  The light conversation continued throughout the meal, but as he swallowed the last of his eggs, Grissom tensed.  The time had come for reality.

Sara noticed the sudden change in his demeanor. "Is something wrong, Grissom?"

"'All truths that are kept silent become poison.'"

"What?"

"Friedrich Nietzsche.  Sometimes you can keep a secret for so long that you can't even remember why you were hiding it.  Then you realize that it's not the secret itself that you're afraid of anymore.  It's the way loved ones may react when they learn you kept it from them."

"We all have secrets, Grissom."

"Some are bigger than others."

"You're scaring me."

"This may not come as such a surprise now that you've met my mother, but I've been concealing a very serious hearing disorder."  
  


"Otosclerosis?"

"Yes. I had surgery last May, which, fortunately was successful. But for a year before that, I had a great deal of trouble hearing much of what was said."

"So, all of those times I thought you were ignoring me, you just couldn't hear me."  
  


"To be honest, some of those times I _was_ ignoring you.  I thought I could keep you at arm's length, and you wouldn't figure out what was going on.  It worked too well. I discovered I didn't want you at arm's length.  I needed you closer.  And I started to resent the fact that you didn't know about my problems.  I've made a lot of mistakes, Sara."

"So that's why you kept pushing me away?"

"That and the fact that I was angry with you, even though I knew I had no right to be."

"Why were you angry with me?" Sara tried her hardest to be supportive and to keep the emotion from her voice.

"You were with him." Gil's voice was barely audible.

"I was with him because he was the only one who was asking.  I waited and waited, and you never made a move. You just kept telling me to find a diversion. So that's exactly what I did.  I never wanted him.  I just wanted to forget you," she paused. "I realize now that it was a huge mistake. I should have just talked to you about it at the time instead of assuming you weren't interested.  I'm sorry.  You have no idea how sorry I am."

"Like I said, I knew then and I know now that I had no right to be upset with you.  I never promised you anything."  Grissom stood and walked across the room, keeping his back to her.  "Then that morning, when you asked me to dinner…I truly didn't know what to do.  I had a pre-op appointment that morning.  Everything was spiraling out of control."

"I'm sorry," Sara fought back tears. "I guess my timing really sucked."

"I'm ready to try now, Sara."

"Try what?" Sara asked. When he remained silent, she continued, "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to be mean, but I need for you to tell me exactly what you're thinking. I won't guess anymore."

"I'm thinking…that I want to get to know you better outside of work.  I want to eat with you, to talk with you, to share my life with you.  Please tell me I'm not too late."

"I'm just, I'm really nervous that you're going to panic tomorrow and push me away again.  I can't take the yo-yo thing anymore.  It's really hard, you know, because I'm tired of being alone, but there's only one man I want to be with, and I just can't figure out where I stand with him."  She had been unaware of Grissom's approach until the moment his lips touched hers.  The kiss was brief, but very, very emotionally powerful.

"I will never, ever push you away again," he said softly as he broke the kiss. "I will do everything in my power to show you what you mean to me.  But I'm nowhere close to perfect, Sara, I'm going to make mistakes."

"All I'm asking is that you don't give up. Don't let the fear overwhelm you. And no more secrets."

TBC


	9. The Confession

Chapter Nine, The Confession 

Five days had passed since Grissom and Sara had reached a fragile new beginning.  Unfortunately, their hectic work schedule had allowed them very little time alone with one another. The sum total consisted of a single dinner date.  Gil found himself spending an afternoon with plans to ride the roller coaster at New York, New York.  He supposed he probably should have called Sara, but he worried that she might be sleeping still and didn't want to wake her. She slept too little as it was.  The good news for him was that it was an off week for tourism and the line for the Manhattan Express was relatively short.  He was able to get the front seat.

Rejuvenated after his ride, he decided to stop and grab a burger at the ESPN Zone, a sports bar just off the casino floor.  As he waited for the hostess to seat him, his eyes settled on a sight that stunned him.  Sara was dining there—with a man.

The Man was of average height, with brown hair and a decent build. He and Sara appeared quite familiar with one another, laughing like lifelong friends.  _Or lovers_, Gil couldn't help but think.  The Man signed the credit card slip the waiter had given him and returned it to its folder.  He and Sara then stood and approached the exit, still laughing.  Gil ducked quickly out of sight. He couldn't bear to face her at the moment. After their departure, Grissom could only stand paralyzed as jealousy, anger and fear assaulted him like sledgehammers.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

In the break room later that evening, Grissom tensed when he entered and saw Sara sitting there. The other members of the team had not yet arrived.  "You look tired," Sara noted.

"Didn't sleep enough," he said obliquely. "I woke up early and decided I needed a roller coaster ride to clear my mind."

"New York, New York?  You should have called me. I was there today."

"Really?" Gil asked knowingly. "What for?" He wondered if she would admit to having been with the Man.

"An old friend came in from out of town.  We had lunch."

"Yeah. Lunch," he failed to keep the bitterness from his voice.

"What's wro—?"

"Forget it."

"Sorry I'm late," Warrick announced from the doorway. "Big accident on I 15."

"Everyone else is late, too. Must be big." Sara answered absently, still feeling the chill emanating from her boss.

"You two take this B and E," Grissom handed the slip to Warrick. "I'll deal with Nick and Catherine when they get here."

"Something tells me I'm glad I missed the rest of that," Warrick told Sara as they proceeded to the Denali.

"I wish I had," Sara shook her head.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

"Our robber isn't the sharpest tool in the shed," Sara tried to smooth things over with Gil.  The difficulty lay in the fact that she had no idea why he was angry. "He left a trail of evidence a mile long."

"And?"  Grissom didn't look up from his crossword puzzle.

"Jacqui's running the prints. We'll have it by morning," She flashed him her trademark grin to no avail.

"Fine. See if Nick needs any help on his case," he ordered, still refusing to look at her.

"Yes, Sir." With a mock salute, Sara turned on her heel and left the office. 

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

The knock at Grissom's front door came shortly after he arrived home.  He looked through the peephole and was surprised to see Sara standing there. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and let her enter.

"What are you doing here?"

"Unlike some people," she spun around to face him. "I can keep the personal issues out of the workplace and deal with them on my personal time."

"Personal issues?"

"Yes. What's up with the freeze out?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't.  Come on, what happened?  What's got you so upset?"

"If you want to know the truth, I saw you yesterday."

"You saw me yesterday."

"Yes.  With him."

"With him?  Wait a minute—jealousy? Is that what this is about?"  When Grissom remained silent, she continued. "I told you I had lunch with Leonard."

"You said you had lunch with a friend. What I saw was more than friendly."

"What? Was I dancing naked on the table or something? Leonard is an old family friend."

"Uh huh."

"I, uh, I really resent what you're implying here."

"Look, Sara, it was inevitable," his voice trailed off.  "I'm an old man. He's not."

"He's forty five, Gil," she hoped the use of his first name would mean something to him. "He's basically the same age you are. And he's just a friend.  If it helps, he's married."

"It doesn't."

"He's been married for fifteen years," she told him matter-of-factly. "His wife? His wife's name is David."

Grissom felt the redness creeping up his neck and over his face. He'd never felt so stupid.  "I…I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You didn't need to know," Sara struggled to hold her anger at bay. "You should have trusted me."

"Again, I'm sorry."

"I was planning to invite you both over for dinner tonight anyway, so you could meet Leonard. I think you'd like him. He's in town for the Meteorology Convention."

"He's a meteorologist?"

"Hydrologist, actually.  He works for the California Department of Agriculture.  He's going back to school for his meteorology degree."

"Sara," Grissom confessed, "I told you I'd make mistakes.  This is really a touchy issue for me.  I'm not a young man…" He turned away from her.

"You're not an old man either," she turned him back around to face her. "What does age have to do with anything?"

"Everything," his voice caught in his throat.  "I worry that I won't be able to make you happy.  Or keep you happy."

"You do make me happy…when you're not freaking out on me."

After a long pause, he asked gently, "What do you see when you look at me, Sara?"

Caught off guard by the question, Sara took a moment to gather her thoughts.  "I see a man who is brilliant…and handsome.  I see someone with a sense of justice and fair play…Very intellectual, but able to appreciate the simple things in life as well…I see a man who wants people to believe he feels nothing, when in actuality he feels everything, deeply and intensely…I see a man who has a great deal of love to give, but he's too afraid to give it. I see—"

"You see all that?" Grissom interrupted.

"Yes.  All that and more. You want to hear it?"

"Do you want to know what I see?"

Sara nodded.

"I see a man who's carried out an incredible charade for so long that even he doesn't know who he is anymore.  I see a man so crippled by insecurity and emotional idiocy that he may never be able to give anything to anyone.  I see a man who hides behind his intellect because it's all he has, and he knows that someday everyone else is going to see through him.  I see someone who's afraid that someday the beautiful young woman in front of him will wake up and realize she's thrown her life away on a defective old man with nothing to offer and find someone younger, someone better for her."

"There _is_ no one better for me," Sara reassured him through her tears. She gripped his face in her hands.  "You may not know this, but you're a catch."

TBC

Probably just one more chapter. Bear with me ;-)


	10. The Conclusion

A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short.  I probably should have just wrapped it up in the last chapter.  Thank you to everyone reading. Chapter Ten, The Conclusion 

"Any regrets?"  Sara asked with a contented sigh.

"One," her lover replied.

The word sounded like an alarm in her head as the fear and confusion registered on her face.

"We should have done this three years ago," Gil clarified.  He turned slightly onto his side and enveloped her in his arms.

 Relief washed over her. "We could have saved ourselves a lot of heartache," she added.  Sleep, normally elusive to Sara, seemed to come easily wrapped in Grissom's arms.  In Grissom's home.  In Grissom's bed.  

The annoying beeping jerked her from her peaceful slumber.  She sat straight up, squinting as she surveyed the room for the source of the offending noise.  Suddenly, as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped.  Once the cobwebs cleared, she realized that the noise had ceased because Grissom had switched off the alarm on his bedside clock.  _Grissom!  Oh my God, I'm in bed with Grissom!_  "Sorry," Gil said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."  His surprise at her reaction quickly gave way to amusement.  "You act like you've never heard an alarm clock before."  

"Let's just say," Sara replied coyly, "I've never heard _your _alarm clock before."

As they prepared and ate dinner together, each was amazed at how completely at ease they were.  Some degree of awkwardness would seem inevitable, and yet there was none.  It would appear to an observer that they had performed this pre-work ritual countless times together, like a couple married for many years.  "Odd," Grissom observed.

"Odd?"

"Yes, odd.  We've only had one date and it seems like fifty."

"Well, let's look at this logically," Sara began. "We've known each other a long time and spent a great deal of time together.  First dates are for 'what's your sign?' and 'what do you do for a living?'  We're well past all that.  It's more like a fiftieth date for us.  It's not so odd."

"Hmm, I suppose not."

"What are we going to do about work?"

"What do you mean?" Gil sought clarification.

"Is 'this'," Sara asked, gesturing back and forth between them with her right hand, "a secret?"

"I don't want to hide you, Sara."

"I don't want to hide, either.  But there are potential ramifications."

"I'm not going to hide, but I won't advertise it, either," catching Sara's puzzled expression, he added "If someone asks me, I'll tell the truth, but I'm not going to walk around volunteering it."

"I can live with that."

Grissom sat down in the chair in front of his computer and logged on to the internet. "I just need to check my e-mail before I go in."

"I should go anyway," Sara told him. "I have to go home and change for work."  She kissed him "goodbye" before picking up her purse and heading for the door.

"I'll see you at work," Grissom smiled.  He watched Sara exit his townhouse and turned back to his monitor.  Thirty-two emails greeted him, twenty-six of which were unsolicited garbage.  The one from his mother caught his eye.  She wanted him to visit her in California for a weekend in two more weeks.  After a look at the work schedule taped to his refrigerator, he grinned as he typed his reply.  He knew he was about to make her day.

"Saturday the 17th?  We'll be there.  And don't forget, Sara is a vegetarian…"

The End


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